


it makes you feel something

by withaflashoflove



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 15:47:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8759185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withaflashoflove/pseuds/withaflashoflove
Summary: Iris likes her mornings quiet, with her boyfriend next to her





	

"You have a good neck." Iris nuzzles her nose a little bit deeper as she tangles one of her legs between his.

She's got him in a tight hold, one of her arms around his waist, the other playing with the back of his head. Her fingers brush his brown locks as she presses another kiss to the skin below his chin.

"Do I?" 

She can't explain his voice in the mornings. It's a lot deeper than it normally is, a lot more lazy too. He slows down. All of him. The vibrations of his vocal cords included, the prosody of his words taking their time to reach the space inside the bedroom.

"You do," she gives him another kiss, refusing to look at him, even though she can feel his own hand tug at her shoulder, "it's warm."

He doesn't respond. So she doesn't either.

Instead, she curls into his chest, now both legs tangled with his. His back feels hard under her hand, and she thinks she can massage the knots away, thinks if she can keep him in bed for a few hours, he'd be all loose and all soft.

They don't say much anymore. Not in the mornings, at least. They take their time. Him going slow. Her matching his pace. And it's good.

It's calm.

Sometimes, they can last all the way until noon without saying a word.

Sometimes, all Iris does is breathe into his neck and play with his hair and run her hands along his chest.

She always holds his hand.

Sometimes, his free hand wanders away from her shoulder and sometimes, it'll make its way down her naked body, all the way to her folds, and her breaths will get a little raspier...a little shakier...and eventually she'll get loud, before the silence comes again.

Words aren't intimate enough for their mornings.

They don't match the shine of the sunshine or the white of the snow. They aren't sweet like kisses were. They always get in the way.

In the way of other things. Like kissing. And cuddling. And nuzzling. And warming cold noses. And staring at pretty eyes.

Words aren't their language in the mornings.

But today, she says nine words more than she usually does. She doesn't know why. But she likes his neck, likes the way it smells, and she figures she should tell him. Secrets don't exist between them. What's hers is his and what's his is hers.

So she tells him. Because she likes to feel the scarlet heat of his cheeks. She likes the smirk she  _knows_ is drawing on his face. She likes making him feel loved.

By telling him he has pretty green eyes. Or a nice neck that always smells the way a cup of coffee tastes.

"Iris," Barry whispers, the press of his lips against her temple.

"Mhm."

His hand slides a little lower, down to the middle of her back, but he doesn't flip her over. That's too rough.

Mornings were soft. And warm.

And quiet.

"...is my face good too?" the question leaves his lips, and it sounds a little hesitant and a little awkward, but it sounds like him just the same.

"Very good face," she confirms.

"But you won't look at it."

It's true.

She hasn't meet his eyes since late last night. Since she came home and lifted his arm to climb into bed and curl up inside his embrace. He kissed her cheek, but she didn't turn around. Even when he asked his usual  _busy news day?_ , she didn't answer. She just fell asleep, inside his arms, wrapped in his warmth, avoiding his gaze.

"Hey.." he shakes her just a little, but she's a West and if she's anything, she's stubborn enough to out-stubborn anyone who tries to match her. So she holds him tighter and closes her eyes, thinks maybe,  _just maybe_ , she'll fall asleep again.

"'s good I have you memorized," Barry hums against her temple, his lips moving to her cheek, peppering gentle kisses to every bit of skin, "otherwise, this'd be a lot harder."

"Would it?"

"I think so, yeah. It's biology."

She grins, and she can feel him laugh, the rumbles in his throat tickling her lips.

There's a silence to the room, as he goes back to tracing the skin on her lower back, and she thinks just how much of it is true. He's always doing it. Comparing her to some sort of scientific field of study, giving her molecular names and formulas, telling all the ways he's thankful for genetics.

It makes her blush, most of the time. Sometimes, when he gets too excited, the metaphor gets lost on her, but he'll always end it with something like  _you're just so beautiful_ and she'll laugh because he's a sap. But she'll kiss him, nonetheless.

Like when he tells her he loves her. Says it like it's the last phrase that'll leave his lips, and she just  _has_ to kiss him. Even when her lipstick is neatly painted on. Even if she's running late for work. He doesn't leave her much of a choice.

"...but I do miss it, still," Barry adds, "your face, I mean."

Her eyes stay closed, her smile still wide.

"Especially your eyes. Because they're really pretty. And your lips. And your nose...

I think I'm a little jealous of my neck right now."

_It's the neck smell, ultimately, isn't it? Either it makes you feel something, or it's just someone's neck._

Her laugh breaks the rest of the silence.

He does that too. Makes her really happy. And really shy. And really overwhelmed. With how much he loves her.

And how much she loves him.

So she slowly moves away, finally meeting his eyes.

"Hi," he smiles, his eyes glistening in the morning light.

But Iris doesn't like words. Words are loud and mornings are quiet. And soft, like his skin, free of stubble and scars, so she leans up to kiss his lips, pulls his bottom lip between hers, enough to taste the morning of him, before breaking away.

Back to his neck.

And he keeps laughing, but he doesn't protest. Just holds her without saying another word.

He has a good neck.

It smells good too.

Just like home.

**Author's Note:**

> "It's the neck smell, ultimately, isn't it? Either it makes you feel something, or it's just someone's neck," is taken from Lovesick, which is an amazing show I highly highly highly recommend watching.


End file.
